Location: My Apartment
Mood: Longing
What is it about the forehead kiss? It's heart warming really. It's the only kind of kiss that lets you know the kisser truly cares about you. Sure, anyone can kiss you on the forehead, and there's nothing particularly intimate about that section of flesh. But, for some reason, when someone kisses you right there, above your nose and in between your eyes, it seems to expose their true feelings for you.
It doesn't always have to be in a romantic setting. My dad kisses me on the forehead occasionally, and when that happens I know that he's proud to be my dad. I have a male friend who smooches my temple from time to time. Granted, this would be odd if it happened frequently, but since it doesn't it's special. It let's me know that he is glad to be my friend.
That being said, I think the best forehead kiss is the romantic forehead kiss. It's been my favorite kiss from all of my previous boyfriends, but it hasn't been the same for each of them. It's an individualized embrace.
I had one boyfriend that did it frequently. When this occurred it was innocent, and affectionate. This boyfriend and I broke up, but we remained close friends. He no longer kisses my forehead. However, when I look back upon a time that he did I'm not surprised that our amorous relationship did not last. The kiss on the tip of my face foretold our future as life long friends who care deeply for one another.
My second serious boyfriend often kissed me on the top of my head. When he did I felt this strong bond to him. I couldn't help but smile. Even now, I remember that experience fondly. The memory gives me a warm sensation behind my eyes and a tingling feeling in my stomach just as strong as if it were still happening. At the time, it was my favorite thing in the world. I couldn't get enough of it, and I even went so far as to ask him to do it (calling it a kiss "betwix my ojos") It was an intense feeling. Ultimately, that's how our relationship was. Intense. It ended with me begging for more, and not appreciating the sporadic specialness of a random peck.
Through the years various people have kissed my forehead, and retrospectively each kiss has indicated the nature of our relationship. A kiss on the forehead is brief, but will tell you if someone admires you, or is amused by you. A forehead kiss can even tell you if, in some way, the kisser looks down on you with a level of condescension. This gentle kiss between your eyes can even allow you to evaluate whether you reciprocate the same level of emotion or intimacy as the kisser.
Really, it's the best kind of kiss, and I wish you all one very soon.
Resisting the urge to grow up (on Mondays and more)
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Awesome Conversations with Children
So, you may or may not know that I work with children. Most of the kids I work with have had some pretty traumatic/hard lives. However, that does not make them any less insightful or fun. They have said some completely amazing things to me over the last few months, and I decided to start documenting them. Due to confidentiality reasons I can't give much information, but I thought that people might enjoy what little I could share. I've had some really rather humorous conversations with these little tykes.
Before I share them with you I should probably put in a little disclaimer. None of these conversations represent my own opinions or ideas. I take no responsibility for any offense that may come from the ramblings of these children. Besides, they're just kids people. Lighten up.
J. Boy age 7
J: I've been to Mars.
Me: Really? What's it like there?
J: Red
Me: Makes sense.
J: And they speak Chinese.
Me: Oh, I had no idea.
J: Yeah, this one time I called them up, and I was like, 'ching chang cho.;
Me: What does that mean?
J: I don't know. I don't speak Chinese.
boy Age 8
You know, Venus is a lot like New York.
J. boy Age 5
J: How old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am?
J: 8?
Me: No, I'm older than 8.
J: 3,000?
Me: No. I'm younger than 3,000.
J: Will you just tell me?
Me: I'm 23.
J: WOAH! You should be bigger!
boy Age 8
The three rules of the sea:
1. No eating other fish, unless they attack you or swim away.
2. Always obey the law.
3. No messing with Spiderman.
D. boy age 5
D: This dragon breathes fire and ice cream.
Me: Doesn't that melt the ice cream?
D: No. Because, sometimes you have to cook ice cream first.
J. boy age 5
Me: That's a really big green bean you have!
J: It's not bigger than this town though.
E. boy age 3
Me: What do those carrots taste like?
E: Umm...green.
boy age 4
My doughnut tasted like Spiderman.
M. boy age 5
M: I like sharks, but not real ones. They bite you. Swordfish hurt you too.
Me: I didn't know that.
M: Yeah well they have a poky nose.
boy age 4
I don't want to play with you. I want to play with a human.
boy age 4 (Reactive Attachment Disorder)
I don't know how to like you.
girl age 7
You want a piece of me? Let's go butthole.
M. boy age 4
Me: Where were you yesterday?
M: I'm batman. I was flying around.
K. boy age 5
Me: What did you draw?
K: That's me in my mommy's tummy. It's boring there.
A. boy age 5
A (to another kid): Please stop looking at me.
Me: She's not looking at you. She's just looking around the room. Does it feel like she's looking at you?
A: Yeah, it's cuz she thinks I'm a robot.
A. boy age 5
A: Knock, Knock!
L: Who's there?
A: Please to meet you!
L: Please to meet you who?
A: um...pants on head!
M. boy age 4
I don't want to hurt people, but sometimes I do and I don't know why.
Admittedly I have gotten really bad at remembering these little bits of awesomeness that children offer me. As the last few entries may indicate, my memory has gravitated toward the more disturbing quotes of late. I have been saving this draft for a while. I began it a year ago before I started regular work with maltreated kids. I've added to it over the months, but not for some time. Rereading it has reminded me that kids have remarkable, and often enjoyable insight. I think it's important to consider that every now and then. Enjoy your kids people.
Before I share them with you I should probably put in a little disclaimer. None of these conversations represent my own opinions or ideas. I take no responsibility for any offense that may come from the ramblings of these children. Besides, they're just kids people. Lighten up.
J. Boy age 7
J: I've been to Mars.
Me: Really? What's it like there?
J: Red
Me: Makes sense.
J: And they speak Chinese.
Me: Oh, I had no idea.
J: Yeah, this one time I called them up, and I was like, 'ching chang cho.;
Me: What does that mean?
J: I don't know. I don't speak Chinese.
boy Age 8
You know, Venus is a lot like New York.
J. boy Age 5
J: How old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am?
J: 8?
Me: No, I'm older than 8.
J: 3,000?
Me: No. I'm younger than 3,000.
J: Will you just tell me?
Me: I'm 23.
J: WOAH! You should be bigger!
boy Age 8
The three rules of the sea:
1. No eating other fish, unless they attack you or swim away.
2. Always obey the law.
3. No messing with Spiderman.
D. boy age 5
D: This dragon breathes fire and ice cream.
Me: Doesn't that melt the ice cream?
D: No. Because, sometimes you have to cook ice cream first.
J. boy age 5
Me: That's a really big green bean you have!
J: It's not bigger than this town though.
E. boy age 3
Me: What do those carrots taste like?
E: Umm...green.
boy age 4
My doughnut tasted like Spiderman.
M. boy age 5
M: I like sharks, but not real ones. They bite you. Swordfish hurt you too.
Me: I didn't know that.
M: Yeah well they have a poky nose.
boy age 4
I don't want to play with you. I want to play with a human.
boy age 4 (Reactive Attachment Disorder)
I don't know how to like you.
girl age 7
You want a piece of me? Let's go butthole.
M. boy age 4
Me: Where were you yesterday?
M: I'm batman. I was flying around.
K. boy age 5
Me: What did you draw?
K: That's me in my mommy's tummy. It's boring there.
A. boy age 5
A (to another kid): Please stop looking at me.
Me: She's not looking at you. She's just looking around the room. Does it feel like she's looking at you?
A: Yeah, it's cuz she thinks I'm a robot.
A. boy age 5
A: Knock, Knock!
L: Who's there?
A: Please to meet you!
L: Please to meet you who?
A: um...pants on head!
M. boy age 4
I don't want to hurt people, but sometimes I do and I don't know why.
Admittedly I have gotten really bad at remembering these little bits of awesomeness that children offer me. As the last few entries may indicate, my memory has gravitated toward the more disturbing quotes of late. I have been saving this draft for a while. I began it a year ago before I started regular work with maltreated kids. I've added to it over the months, but not for some time. Rereading it has reminded me that kids have remarkable, and often enjoyable insight. I think it's important to consider that every now and then. Enjoy your kids people.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
The Logical Heroes
This is a story about a dream I had last night. Bare with me, because I'm not sure if I can accurately describe it. Dreams are difficult to describe, and this one meets that expectation perfectly.
I'm driving through the streets of East Portland on my scooter (no I don't actually own a scooter, but apparently I do in dreamland...it's blue and white), and I'm followed by my friend of 10 years, Rob, on his.
It must have just rained because it was crisp outside, and the roads were slick. In the dream I feel like I'm being perfectly safe, but the me outside my dream, the me watching my dream, that me...she disagrees. I am zig-zagging back and forth in the lane. It's so extreme that I'm nearly horizontal every time I shift my weight to alter the lean. I'm darting in and out of traffic, and Dream Mindy is having the time of her life. Dreaming me is petrified that she's going to die, and Rob agrees with her.
He's shouting at me, "slow down Mindy! Be careful!" He's (rightfully) worried I'm going to crash.
That's when I crossed over I-84. In this world, the road just ends after you do that. I reached the end of the road, and slide-stop my scooter (you know hockey style). A couple of minutes later, Rob stops besides me. He begins to berate me for my reckless driving.
"Rob, calm down," I say. "I got us here didn't I?"
Just then, the perspective pans up to capture what can only be described as a Wildlife Safari style Rain Forest Attraction. It's set up like a tree house, and I'm unclear if it's a hotel, or just a tourist attraction thing. Whatever it is, (whether it's overnight or not) we're going there.
When we cross the threshold, we are immediately immersed in an actual Tropical rain forest tree house. It is at this point that the real me (who is asleep and watching this whole experience) realizes that this is not just regular Rob and Mindy. We're kids; somewhere between 8 and 10 years old. Apparently, we have chosen to spend the day darting around East Portland on our scooters, and then experiencing a genuine tropical rain forest that appears with no adult supervision.
After I realize that the juvenile Rob and Mindy are not simply exploring this habitat, I begin to fear for the outcome of this dream.
The tree house we have entered is loosely made of bamboo, and every room is open to the environment. Each room, or pod, is connected by a low hanging flimsy rope bridge. Most rooms are low and only inches above a bog which is infested with malicious swamp creatures.
The animals are not caged as you would imagine. In fact, they can (and typically do) come right up into the tree house. Nefarious looking simians swing on vines in and out of each pod taking what they will, and throwing what they won't. There is some kind of anaconda/alligator/shark type animal that lives in the bog below. Not only does this creature appear smart, but it seems to be aware that it is in an artificial habitat and is not happy about it. It begins to express it's anger by snapping at the children as they cross the bridge. It even gobbles up a couple.
Some monkeys swing into one of the rooms, and start physically attacking the children in there. I'm talking hair pulling, biting, eye-gouging, the works.
Rob and I look at each other. We then immediately scan as much of this environment as we can see (it appears to be an entire world now) for adults. We do see two employees in an adjacent room, but they are fending off some strange dream rain forest animals similar to hyenas. The hyena-things have worked as a team to disassemble some of the rope structure, and wrap it around the only adults. They are now attempting to force them into the bog where a giant piranha type animal is licking it's lips in anticipation.
Dream Mindy is terrified. Dreaming Mindy is trying to wake up. We both look to Rob for protection. Good thing too. Apparently he has a solution up his sleeve.
We're both huddled in a bedroom corner. Rob turns to me and says, "Don't worry. I know just who to call." Seconds later who appears but..........
Underdog and Quail Dog. They scare off the animals momentarily. Underdog screams "There's no need to fear, Underdog is here!"
At this moment everyone, (Rob, Dream Mindy, Dreaming Mindy, and the asinine canine saviors) realizes that we have not actually been saved. We have only angered the swamp thing below.
This is when I wake up.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Gloria the Congested Giantess.
Yesterday I worked a bike race at Mt. Tabor. It was rainy, and cold. However, the rain stopped and it warmed up just in time for my drive home. Given the change in surrounding, I thought it might be fun to play around with my GPS. I set the GPS to take me home with the "fastest" route. It had me scheduled to arrive home at 4:26pm, 20 minutes from my departure time. I followed it a little, but then I noticed that it had planned for me to drive on just surface streets. Normally, this is the route that I too would have chosen for myself. However, as I drove past the freeway on ramp I thought, "I wonder what time I would get home by if I took the freeway."
On an impulse, I turned at the very last minute to get onto what looked like a mostly clear freeway. About 60 seconds later... I was at a standstill. Nobody was going anywhere. I imagined (as someone with my facial anatomy would) the freeways were actually the sinus system in some giant's face, and they were clogged. No movement in or out. For what felt like an eternity I sat there and watched the estimated arrival time move further and further away. 4:28pm. 4:29pm. 4:30pm.
Then we began to inch towards freedom. I could see the I-5 & I-84 junction. I knew I was almost there. After a few more minutes, I merged onto I-84, and everything opened up. The estimated arrival time began to drop. 4:29, 4:28, 4:27pm. I thought "I'm gonna do it! Despite all that drama, I might actually beat Gloria the GPS home!"
I thought wrong. Just as the thought occurred to me, I noticed brake lights ahead. I merged right hoping to get off the freeway before the congestion. But, alas, it would not be. We were stuck on the freeway. More stuck than before. Somewhere, in my fantasy world a giant was applying heat packs to his forehead, and attempting to flush out his nasal cavities. Poor guy.
The estimated arrival time crept back up. 4:30pm. 4:32pm. 4:34pm. Bye bye dream.
Gloria Peurterschmidt laughs in my face, "FREEWAY OFF RAMP ON THE RIGHT IN 2.0 MILES!!"
That bitch. It would be 10 minutes before I could even see the off ramp. Minutes went by faster than distances. Five minutes. 1.7 miles to go. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Instead I laughed. Of course this would happen to me.
Eventually we crawled past a pretty bad car accident. I saw the EMTs loading someone's body into the back of an ambulance, and I felt bad for my little game. I looked ahead, the freeway opened back up, and it was time for me to make another choice. Stay on the freeway, get off and use surface streets.
Well as that day's weather systems had indicated, the beauty of sunny skies was not going to last. Open freeways, but a drizzle had started. An ominous feeling washed over me. I'd just passed two different clogged up giant nasal passages, caused by the mythical loogies of car accidents. It's probably best if I get off the free way before the hail came back.
So I did just that.
Is that the end?
Of course not. Have we met?
I exited the freeway, and began actually paying attention to my GPS, which I think is what she wanted all along. I turned off 181st onto Burnside only to discover....
CONSTRUCTION.
Clearly the giant had decided to bite the bullet and get reconstructive surgery. A mystical month's worth of back up was in store. I sat there thinking "just my luck." I turned the radio on, and accepted my fate. The estimated arrival time climbed higher than ever before.
I get it Gloria. By the time I got home it was 5:15pm. Never again will I tempt fate, and race against your vast knowledge of highways, bi-ways and surface streets.
Okay, let's be realistic, I'm probably going to attempt a similar feat sometime in the near future. As you can probably tell, I get bored.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Christmas Chagrin
Location: Gresham Station
Mood: Awkward
I would like to share with you an embarrassing moment that I just had.
I'm home alone, and needing human contact. Also, I have two Christmas gifts I to buy. So, I head to the local shopping station to scare up some presents. It is littered with people. I mean the most amount of shoppers I have ever seen at this particular location.To give you an idea of how many people were there: I waited in line at the register for 30 minutes.
When I finally get out of one store, I learn that it has begun to pour rain. So, I flip up my furry hood, and head to the next store. While crossing the street I walk past two of my next door neighbors. A girl my age, that I grew up with and played with all of the time, and her mom. They were mid conversation, but I was pretty confidant that they caught my eye.
I stop dead in my tracks. I very loudly and enthusiastically shout out "Well hi there! How are you?" in an entirely over-animated type fashion. I waved my arms about as though I was painting them a glorious Native-American Style "How Do You Do?" mural with my hands. It was so attention-grabbing that several people around stopped what they were doing and turned to see who this energetic girl was saying hello to.
Now, that wouldn't really have been all that bad. However, my neighbors halted their conversation, and stared right at me with zero recognition on their faces. They were dumb-founded. They clearly had no idea who I was. To make matters worse, both of them knit their eyebrows together and let out a very skeptical "uh...hi?" Their expressions were doubtful, like those you might expect to see on a person who had just been offered a brand new car free of charge with no strings attached by a nefarious seeming gangster type.
So, now that I have the eyes of the entire busy street corner, and it's obvious that no one knows who I am, I respond in the only logical way. My face flushes, I hang my head a little, and very swiftly say "well it was good seeing you," and dart into the nearest doorway like a woman on a mission.
Mood: Awkward
I would like to share with you an embarrassing moment that I just had.
I'm home alone, and needing human contact. Also, I have two Christmas gifts I to buy. So, I head to the local shopping station to scare up some presents. It is littered with people. I mean the most amount of shoppers I have ever seen at this particular location.To give you an idea of how many people were there: I waited in line at the register for 30 minutes.
When I finally get out of one store, I learn that it has begun to pour rain. So, I flip up my furry hood, and head to the next store. While crossing the street I walk past two of my next door neighbors. A girl my age, that I grew up with and played with all of the time, and her mom. They were mid conversation, but I was pretty confidant that they caught my eye.
I stop dead in my tracks. I very loudly and enthusiastically shout out "Well hi there! How are you?" in an entirely over-animated type fashion. I waved my arms about as though I was painting them a glorious Native-American Style "How Do You Do?" mural with my hands. It was so attention-grabbing that several people around stopped what they were doing and turned to see who this energetic girl was saying hello to.
Now, that wouldn't really have been all that bad. However, my neighbors halted their conversation, and stared right at me with zero recognition on their faces. They were dumb-founded. They clearly had no idea who I was. To make matters worse, both of them knit their eyebrows together and let out a very skeptical "uh...hi?" Their expressions were doubtful, like those you might expect to see on a person who had just been offered a brand new car free of charge with no strings attached by a nefarious seeming gangster type.
So, now that I have the eyes of the entire busy street corner, and it's obvious that no one knows who I am, I respond in the only logical way. My face flushes, I hang my head a little, and very swiftly say "well it was good seeing you," and dart into the nearest doorway like a woman on a mission.
Monday, October 26, 2009
I Guess It's A Monday?
Location: Home
Mood: Melancholy
I guess I'm having a day that most people would label as a typical Monday. I just feel really stupid today. However, I'm not entirely sure that "stupid" captures the enormity of how I feel.
It's like my brain is cloudy.
All day I was confronted with these situations that I should have been able to handle, but I struggled. With each and every situation...I struggled. It started almost right away too.
This morning I THOUGHT I was awake. Then I arrived at work, and two of my coworkers were go-go-go almost right off the bat. I was instantly overwhelmed. It wasn't that they were discussing anything too stressful, or something that I could not handle. It was that my brain simply could not keep up.
Then, the kids arrived, and my work day really began. Granted, these aren't normal kids, and that makes the work harder than average. However, it was as though I couldn't do a damn thing right. If a kid made a simple request of me, I would respond by staring at them for a couple of beats before I reacted. When a child began acting out in a way that required my immediate attention, I was able to physically respond, but I was unable to mentally respond. Throughout the entire day, I continued to make stupid mistakes. It was like my brain was soaking in molasses or something.
After the children left, I had a serious to-do list to to tackle, and all I could do was wander around helplessly. I was aware of the things that I needed to accomplish, but I couldn't make myself function successfully. On top of that, my day was riddeled with mental stutters, verbal slips, and a general lack of comprehension.
I just feel like I can't do anything right at this point. I guess that is probably not true. I'm sure that there is SOMETHING that I can do right. However, at this point I am not convinced.
Tomorrow I will have a sharper mind and faster reactions! I can't handle two days of feeling like I am inept.
Mood: Melancholy
I guess I'm having a day that most people would label as a typical Monday. I just feel really stupid today. However, I'm not entirely sure that "stupid" captures the enormity of how I feel.
It's like my brain is cloudy.
All day I was confronted with these situations that I should have been able to handle, but I struggled. With each and every situation...I struggled. It started almost right away too.
This morning I THOUGHT I was awake. Then I arrived at work, and two of my coworkers were go-go-go almost right off the bat. I was instantly overwhelmed. It wasn't that they were discussing anything too stressful, or something that I could not handle. It was that my brain simply could not keep up.
Then, the kids arrived, and my work day really began. Granted, these aren't normal kids, and that makes the work harder than average. However, it was as though I couldn't do a damn thing right. If a kid made a simple request of me, I would respond by staring at them for a couple of beats before I reacted. When a child began acting out in a way that required my immediate attention, I was able to physically respond, but I was unable to mentally respond. Throughout the entire day, I continued to make stupid mistakes. It was like my brain was soaking in molasses or something.
After the children left, I had a serious to-do list to to tackle, and all I could do was wander around helplessly. I was aware of the things that I needed to accomplish, but I couldn't make myself function successfully. On top of that, my day was riddeled with mental stutters, verbal slips, and a general lack of comprehension.
I just feel like I can't do anything right at this point. I guess that is probably not true. I'm sure that there is SOMETHING that I can do right. However, at this point I am not convinced.
Tomorrow I will have a sharper mind and faster reactions! I can't handle two days of feeling like I am inept.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I'm Never Leaving The House Again
How do I even begin to tell you about this day?
Well, you need some back story. It all begins last Thursday. I was at work. I missed a call from someone at a local child welfare office. They wanted to schedule an interview for me. I work Thursdays and Fridays, and have very little time to return calls. This is especially true on Thursdays. I work from 8:30am-5pm. At which point I drive like a frantic crazy woman to get to my next job which begins at 5:30pm.
I really want to work for child welfare. So this past Thursday I thought it would be a good idea to return the call as I drove from job 1 to job 2.
BAD IDEA. I was completely frazzled. I hadn't worked out what I was going to say. I left a message for this woman that made me sound like a bumbling idiot. I don't remember the exact message, but it went something like this:
"Hi...uh..." (I had hastily written the woman's name down. I couldn't read my writing, and it was a big long name. So I paused for a second as I tried to drive and decipher what on earth this name was). "...um...Ms. Bridenheagenshsmendhaer" (that was me mumbling her name) "This is Melinda Murray returning your call about the..." (missed my turn) "...interview. I'm sorry I missed your call. I was actually at work all day, and I will be at work all day tomorrow. I'm very interested in coming in about this job." (Coming in about this job??! Really?!) "I guess you could call me back." (I guess you could call me back?) "I'm free most other days of the week..." (At this point I have realized that the message has made me look like I am suffering from some form of mental retardation and it is best to just end it all). "I will...uh...try to reach you again tomorrow after 5pm. Again this is....Melinda...Murray." (OH MY GOD MINDY! FAILURE! THIS IS AWKWARD!! BAIL!! BAIL!! BAIL!!) "Sorry this message is so awkward." *Click* ---> and yes I actually said that last part.
Now, if you're thinking what I was thinking: I know!! What is wrong with me?!
At this point I am assuming that they are never going to call me ever again, and I have lost my chance. Fair assumption? I think so.
On Friday, I received a call from someone else in this office. The original woman, with the unpronounceable name doesn't work on Fridays, but they wanted to touch base, and tell me they are only doing interviews on Monday. I think this is my chance to redeem myself. I'll call her when I get off work.
She wasn't there. I left a less awkward message. However it was still strange. It was me explaining that I can come in any time on Monday, and if someone could please call me at their earliest convenience. I told this new woman (whose name I wrote down very carefully) that I would make any time work in my schedule.
All weekend goes by, and I receive no call. I have lost my chance at this job, but I'm not really surprised. This has been a seriously awkward game of phone tag. No one, but me, could pull this level of awkwardness off.
Then, Monday comes around. I get up early, and I go to the gym. Now, I NEVER take my phone to in with me, but for some reason I did this Monday. I'm still not sure if this has worked to my benefit.
It rings.
I answered, frazzled, and out of breath. It is the same office, different person (this is three people I have been awkward with now). They have one interview slot open Tuesday at 11:30. I say "yes I will be there." However, I have no pen, so I don't ask for the address or anything.
More information you need to know about me. I HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, being late. This usually means that I am EMBARRASSINGLY early to things.
Today rolls around. I get up early. I get ready. I find the address to the office. I set my resume and application to print. I perfect my outfit. Surprisingly, I look pretty good. I get ready to leave (allowing enough time to be there 20 minutes early). I go to the printer to gather my papers. The damn thing was out of paper! I have to find some. That takes about 10 minutes.
I leave. There's a smog advisory, and it's hotter than Hades out. However, everyone seems to think that driving is a good idea. So, all the morons of the world are out, and driving at a slow and leisurely pace. PLUS there's construction everywhere. (Thanks for the jobs Obama, but today it's not really working for my schedule). I get to the address I have written down, five minutes late.
OMG I'm late.
OMFG, the place doesn't exist! I'm at the wrong place!
At this point I am thinking. "Just go home Mindy. You have completely botched this whole thing from the very beginning. There's no point in attempting to save it. Just go home, curl up in a ball, and cry for a few months." BUT, This week I'm testing the boundaries of my comfort zone. So, I call my mother, and she finds their phone number. I call their office, and tell them that I'm lost.
I'm sure they are thinking "this lady is a complete fool." I would be. Why are they wasting their time with me? Why have they gone out of their way to bring me in for an interview when I have yet to demonstrate one redeeming quality? Actually no. I have clearly demonstrated my ability to socially flog myself and come back for more. How appealing.
They debate whether or not they should continue with the interview. I'm not speculating. They actually told me this is what they were doing.
By some strange grace of god they decide to let me come in a half an hour late (because that is how late I will be at this point). I thank them, but am seriously wondering if I should let me come in a half an hour late.
So, I drive in the opposite direction for 15 minutes, and pull into the parking lot of a Walgreen's. They have told me they are located at the corner of Powell and 122nd, and all I see here is a Walgreen's.
Kill me now.
Every fiber of my being is now screaming "GO HOME!" My anxiety issues are kicking in BIG time, and I hate myself for being this late.
Really it's amazing I didn't just completely loose it there in the middle of Rockwood. BUT, I held it together, and discovered this weird little hole in the wall marked "Child Welfare." I take a deep breath, and walk into this building.
There was no front desk to check in at. Really there wasn't much of anything. It was like a big empty room with a conference room attached.
I scream internally. My inside voice is shouting "TURN AND LEAVE, TURN AND LEAVE!"
A few people look up at me and stare. I'm sure they are wondering who this nicely dressed, but clearly frazzled young lady is. I wish I knew, people. I wish I knew.
After what feels like hours, but is really only seconds, a nice man comes out and says "are you Melinda?"
OH THANK GOD!!! YES I'M MELINDA!!! SAVE ME NOW!!
Normally, I advise against following strange men around after entering vaguely marked offices in the middle of trashy east P-town, but at this point I had NOTHING to loose.
So, I swallow the blue pill and follow him down the rabbit hole.
The interview lasted about 10 minutes, which isn't advisable. However, I felt like it went okay. Against all odds, I think I pulled off this interview.
When it ended I practically ran out of there in my heels. I had to make a quick stop at the grocery store, and then I was home free. Literally. However, even that didn't go as planned.
When I went to the store, I was followed around by two trashy looking teenage boys in over sized tie-died shirts. They don't know I saw them, but they were stalking me. Then, as I was leaving, my gas light came on. Which is beyond my comprehension, because I had a quarter of a tank this morning.
I make a quick stop at a nearby gas station, and I think "you deserve an Icee Mindy." So, I go in to pay only to discover that this is apparently the one gas station mini mart on Earth that does not serve Icees.
PERFECT.
Well, I've gone in, so I've got to get something. I get a pop. The lady doesn't take my credit card. Of course you don't. I make it work. I get in the car, and now I can't get out of the parking lot in the direction I want to go. I have to drive around in a ridiculous 4-block circle just to get back on track.
I think that the heat has actually seeped into my brain. The temperature is making a brain omelet inside my head.
Finally I make it home. The interview location was 15 minutes from my house, but I managed to get stuck outside, lost, confused, upset, and frazzled for three hours!
As I mentioned earlier, it is hotter than the fiery pits of hell here. On second thought, that might be where I am. I woke up in hell this morning. God that explains EVERYTHING!
Really it's amazing I didn't just completely loose it there in the middle of Rockwood. BUT, I held it together, and discovered this weird little hole in the wall marked "Child Welfare." I take a deep breath, and walk into this building.
There was no front desk to check in at. Really there wasn't much of anything. It was like a big empty room with a conference room attached.
I scream internally. My inside voice is shouting "TURN AND LEAVE, TURN AND LEAVE!"
A few people look up at me and stare. I'm sure they are wondering who this nicely dressed, but clearly frazzled young lady is. I wish I knew, people. I wish I knew.
After what feels like hours, but is really only seconds, a nice man comes out and says "are you Melinda?"
OH THANK GOD!!! YES I'M MELINDA!!! SAVE ME NOW!!
Normally, I advise against following strange men around after entering vaguely marked offices in the middle of trashy east P-town, but at this point I had NOTHING to loose.
So, I swallow the blue pill and follow him down the rabbit hole.
The interview lasted about 10 minutes, which isn't advisable. However, I felt like it went okay. Against all odds, I think I pulled off this interview.
When it ended I practically ran out of there in my heels. I had to make a quick stop at the grocery store, and then I was home free. Literally. However, even that didn't go as planned.
When I went to the store, I was followed around by two trashy looking teenage boys in over sized tie-died shirts. They don't know I saw them, but they were stalking me. Then, as I was leaving, my gas light came on. Which is beyond my comprehension, because I had a quarter of a tank this morning.
I make a quick stop at a nearby gas station, and I think "you deserve an Icee Mindy." So, I go in to pay only to discover that this is apparently the one gas station mini mart on Earth that does not serve Icees.
PERFECT.
Well, I've gone in, so I've got to get something. I get a pop. The lady doesn't take my credit card. Of course you don't. I make it work. I get in the car, and now I can't get out of the parking lot in the direction I want to go. I have to drive around in a ridiculous 4-block circle just to get back on track.
I think that the heat has actually seeped into my brain. The temperature is making a brain omelet inside my head.
Finally I make it home. The interview location was 15 minutes from my house, but I managed to get stuck outside, lost, confused, upset, and frazzled for three hours!
As I mentioned earlier, it is hotter than the fiery pits of hell here. On second thought, that might be where I am. I woke up in hell this morning. God that explains EVERYTHING!
Monday, July 20, 2009
A Grown Up in a Child-Sized Costume
Location: My Room
Mood: Lonely
Here is what's on my mind. According to, well, the world I look a lot younger than I am. I'm twenty-three years old, but many people have a hard time believing that. It's quite frustrating actually. It's a lot worse than it sounds. Let me describe to you a few recent events in my life.
This weekend I went to Vegas. A bouncer didn't believe my ID at one club. At another some guy asked me if I was fifteen. Then the girl in line behind me at the bar loudly told her friends that there was no way in hell I was legal.
A few weeks ago a bike racer gave me one of his premes (he didn't want it). It was a tote bag. He said it would really come in handy during my first semester. A couple of days later a friend of my parents asked me what grade I was in.
About six months ago I went to the movies with my Mom. We went to see an animated feature. It was raining, so I had my hood up. My mom bounds up to the box office and said "we wanna see some cartoons!" The box office attendant then asked if we needed one adult and one child ticket.
Nearly nine months ago I went out to dinner with my brother. The host looked directly at me, and then asked if we would be needing a childrens' menu.
I work at a therapeutic school for children who have been abused/neglected. On one of my first days a 6 year old girl told me that I didn't look like a teacher. "You look like a kid," she said. One day I was working with an after school group of adolescents and one of the teenage girls raised her hand, and asked the lead staff "is she {referring to me} one of you or one of us?"
As you can see, this is not just a vague confusion. I am an adult, and society doesn't see it. People aren't saying I look a little bit younger than I am. Some people think I'm a few years younger. Some people think more than that. They assume I'm a teenager. When they see me reading they assume that it is for homework. They find it strange that my parents "let" me drink. Other people assume worse. They think I'm a child. They believe I need special menus and booster seats.
Normally, I just laugh it off. I tell myself that it's no big deal. However, the truth is: this really gets to me. A large part of me actually takes this to heart. It kicks me right in the most tender portion of my self-esteem. I don't want to be younger. I'm twenty-three. I want to be twenty three.
The worst part is that no one seems to understand. I keep hearing "oh you'll really like that later" or "eventually that will be nice." That's all well and good, but here's the thing: it's not later. I'm sure that when I'm forty-five and getting carded, I will be flattered. Eventually, I probably will appreciate it. However, right now it sucks, and I don't think that's going to change. Maybe I will like it when I'm older. Actually, I probably will, but one thing I know for sure is that when I am older I will not think "that wasn't so bad when I was 23." It sucks now, and I believe that I will still think so into old age. I will look back and think "yeah it's nice now, but I hated the hell out of it when I was young."
SO, thanks for trying to console me with that thought. But for the love of god please stop.
Mood: Lonely
Here is what's on my mind. According to, well, the world I look a lot younger than I am. I'm twenty-three years old, but many people have a hard time believing that. It's quite frustrating actually. It's a lot worse than it sounds. Let me describe to you a few recent events in my life.
This weekend I went to Vegas. A bouncer didn't believe my ID at one club. At another some guy asked me if I was fifteen. Then the girl in line behind me at the bar loudly told her friends that there was no way in hell I was legal.
A few weeks ago a bike racer gave me one of his premes (he didn't want it). It was a tote bag. He said it would really come in handy during my first semester. A couple of days later a friend of my parents asked me what grade I was in.
About six months ago I went to the movies with my Mom. We went to see an animated feature. It was raining, so I had my hood up. My mom bounds up to the box office and said "we wanna see some cartoons!" The box office attendant then asked if we needed one adult and one child ticket.
Nearly nine months ago I went out to dinner with my brother. The host looked directly at me, and then asked if we would be needing a childrens' menu.
I work at a therapeutic school for children who have been abused/neglected. On one of my first days a 6 year old girl told me that I didn't look like a teacher. "You look like a kid," she said. One day I was working with an after school group of adolescents and one of the teenage girls raised her hand, and asked the lead staff "is she {referring to me} one of you or one of us?"
As you can see, this is not just a vague confusion. I am an adult, and society doesn't see it. People aren't saying I look a little bit younger than I am. Some people think I'm a few years younger. Some people think more than that. They assume I'm a teenager. When they see me reading they assume that it is for homework. They find it strange that my parents "let" me drink. Other people assume worse. They think I'm a child. They believe I need special menus and booster seats.
Normally, I just laugh it off. I tell myself that it's no big deal. However, the truth is: this really gets to me. A large part of me actually takes this to heart. It kicks me right in the most tender portion of my self-esteem. I don't want to be younger. I'm twenty-three. I want to be twenty three.
The worst part is that no one seems to understand. I keep hearing "oh you'll really like that later" or "eventually that will be nice." That's all well and good, but here's the thing: it's not later. I'm sure that when I'm forty-five and getting carded, I will be flattered. Eventually, I probably will appreciate it. However, right now it sucks, and I don't think that's going to change. Maybe I will like it when I'm older. Actually, I probably will, but one thing I know for sure is that when I am older I will not think "that wasn't so bad when I was 23." It sucks now, and I believe that I will still think so into old age. I will look back and think "yeah it's nice now, but I hated the hell out of it when I was young."
SO, thanks for trying to console me with that thought. But for the love of god please stop.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Kids Have it Made!
Location: Home
Mood: Amused
Have I ever told you about how and why I think little kids are the greatest? Really their lives rule, and I'm super jealous. Have you ever really thought about it?
Little kids can wear whatever they want, and it's adorable. Have you been to the zoo recently? You'll see kids there in all types of garments. It could be the middle of July, and a four year-old will be wearing a snow suit as overalls. I mean you'll feel bad because he's probably sweating up a storm, but it's so freaking cute you can't help but snicker. Also, kids can wear mismatched outfits whenever they please. They can wear capes out in public, and no one even bats an eye. Even better: they compliment them. Now, imagine 23 year old Me, going to the grocery store, in two different pairs of long socks, plaid shorts, a polka dotted shirt, with a cape around my shoulders, and a ten gallon hat. If you walked past me you would not smile and compliment my outfit. You would not come up to me and say, (with pride flowing out of you) "did you dress yourself this morning?" You would wonder what was wrong with me. You might hide your children, or clutch your purse a little tighter. You'd probably make fun of me behind my back.
Little kids can behave however they want. Now, most people hear this argument and disagree with me. I will modify it. Little kids are not supposed to behave in certain ways, but if (and when) they do, society excuses them anyway. How many times have you been out in public, and seen a little kid throw an absolute fit? It happens. It's not pleasant. No one likes it when they do, but they're little kids and we let it slide. They're still learning, we tell ourselves. I have had numerous days where things just did not go my way. Maybe I was tired, cranky, hungry, or all three. Maybe I was forced to go somewhere I didn't want to be, or maybe someone else was playing with something of mine. I admit it, it would feel great to scream and shout about it. Sometimes the perfect catharsis is crying and stamping your feet. However, being adults, we can't do that. The police might be called. You would be responsible for your actions. When a little kid throws a fit. People don't blame him. It's hard being a kid. They approach his/her parents and say "if you cannot get your child under control, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Sure, maybe the parents reprimand the child, but in the grand scheme of things they got away with it.
Little kids don't really have to walk anywhere if they don't want to. Go on a family hike. You can try to force your five year old to walk the whole thing, but if she whines enough, you'll pick her up. You'll probably actually enjoy carrying her around on your back. Anyone want to hike up a mountain with me on your back? Didn't think so.
I think the perfect age is four. You're old enough to start talking, but too young to understand the things you can't do. You don't miss out on bars and dating, because they aren't things your interested in. You can play with toys. You can be adorable. Everyone wants to talk to you, and they usually have nice things to say. There are really no responsibilities. You can wear a batman costume to school, and a princess dress to the post-office. You can cry when your mommy makes fish sticks for dinner, and you can twirl around the back yards of the world for hours without a care in the world.
Mood: Amused
Have I ever told you about how and why I think little kids are the greatest? Really their lives rule, and I'm super jealous. Have you ever really thought about it?
Little kids can wear whatever they want, and it's adorable. Have you been to the zoo recently? You'll see kids there in all types of garments. It could be the middle of July, and a four year-old will be wearing a snow suit as overalls. I mean you'll feel bad because he's probably sweating up a storm, but it's so freaking cute you can't help but snicker. Also, kids can wear mismatched outfits whenever they please. They can wear capes out in public, and no one even bats an eye. Even better: they compliment them. Now, imagine 23 year old Me, going to the grocery store, in two different pairs of long socks, plaid shorts, a polka dotted shirt, with a cape around my shoulders, and a ten gallon hat. If you walked past me you would not smile and compliment my outfit. You would not come up to me and say, (with pride flowing out of you) "did you dress yourself this morning?" You would wonder what was wrong with me. You might hide your children, or clutch your purse a little tighter. You'd probably make fun of me behind my back.
Little kids can behave however they want. Now, most people hear this argument and disagree with me. I will modify it. Little kids are not supposed to behave in certain ways, but if (and when) they do, society excuses them anyway. How many times have you been out in public, and seen a little kid throw an absolute fit? It happens. It's not pleasant. No one likes it when they do, but they're little kids and we let it slide. They're still learning, we tell ourselves. I have had numerous days where things just did not go my way. Maybe I was tired, cranky, hungry, or all three. Maybe I was forced to go somewhere I didn't want to be, or maybe someone else was playing with something of mine. I admit it, it would feel great to scream and shout about it. Sometimes the perfect catharsis is crying and stamping your feet. However, being adults, we can't do that. The police might be called. You would be responsible for your actions. When a little kid throws a fit. People don't blame him. It's hard being a kid. They approach his/her parents and say "if you cannot get your child under control, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Sure, maybe the parents reprimand the child, but in the grand scheme of things they got away with it.
Little kids don't really have to walk anywhere if they don't want to. Go on a family hike. You can try to force your five year old to walk the whole thing, but if she whines enough, you'll pick her up. You'll probably actually enjoy carrying her around on your back. Anyone want to hike up a mountain with me on your back? Didn't think so.
I think the perfect age is four. You're old enough to start talking, but too young to understand the things you can't do. You don't miss out on bars and dating, because they aren't things your interested in. You can play with toys. You can be adorable. Everyone wants to talk to you, and they usually have nice things to say. There are really no responsibilities. You can wear a batman costume to school, and a princess dress to the post-office. You can cry when your mommy makes fish sticks for dinner, and you can twirl around the back yards of the world for hours without a care in the world.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Peope are Despicable
If you were alive and breathing at all these past few weeks you probably noticed that the largest pop icon in the world isn't.
I was a little shocked by my reaction to this news. It made me sad. I'm not saying that I'm heartless or anything. Not in the least. I just didn't think I cared that much. I thought that I would probably react as I do to the news of any celebrity dying. That reaction is one of mild upset but mostly vague indifference. It's a reaction that is best summed up with a shrug and a calm "huh, that's too bad." This is the reaction that I expected to the news of Michael Jackson's death.
Instead, I was momentarily stunned. After that, I began to remember every time he popped up in the media during my life. I was honestly saddened by the news, and then I was upset at what I knew was about to come. I knew that people were going to have mixed reactions. I knew that many people were going to look at this as fodder for idiots. I knew that people were going to be making jokes that were in extremely poor taste, and comments that were outrageously inappropriate.
I was not let down.
What I want to say to these people is this: You didn't know him. You don't know any celebrities.
We tend to think that because someone is on our tv, or singing through our radios that we know who they are. This is not the case. Yes, celebrities are the people we see in the media, but is that all they are? They have private lives that we will never know anything about.
I am not denying that some odd things happened in Michael Jackson's life. In the last decade or so, he was in the media for a number of strange things, but no one knows what actually happened. None of us knows what he did or didn't do. It bothers me that people feel like it's okay to pass judgment on this man. He did more with his life than most people will ever do.
I was watching his public memorial today, and there were moments when I was moved by the words of his loved ones. These are famous people, who I am sure many people feel like they know. Many of them we love and celebrate, but for some reason we don't take that into consideration? Notice how many people showed up to pay the respects to this man. Notice how large his family is. Notice how devoted his friends are. Say what you want about what you think his personal life may have been like, but you have to admit there's a possibility you're wrong. If this man was as deeply disturbed and perverse as you assume he was, how could he have amassed such a support system. Why would celebrities who make a living off of their reputations stand up to support him?
Most importantly: How would you feel if it was your life people had misunderstood? How would you feel if people passed judgment on your personality because of some quirky traits? How would you if a beloved member of your family passed away, and then random people began to joke about it?
Respect.
I was a little shocked by my reaction to this news. It made me sad. I'm not saying that I'm heartless or anything. Not in the least. I just didn't think I cared that much. I thought that I would probably react as I do to the news of any celebrity dying. That reaction is one of mild upset but mostly vague indifference. It's a reaction that is best summed up with a shrug and a calm "huh, that's too bad." This is the reaction that I expected to the news of Michael Jackson's death.
Instead, I was momentarily stunned. After that, I began to remember every time he popped up in the media during my life. I was honestly saddened by the news, and then I was upset at what I knew was about to come. I knew that people were going to have mixed reactions. I knew that many people were going to look at this as fodder for idiots. I knew that people were going to be making jokes that were in extremely poor taste, and comments that were outrageously inappropriate.
I was not let down.
What I want to say to these people is this: You didn't know him. You don't know any celebrities.
We tend to think that because someone is on our tv, or singing through our radios that we know who they are. This is not the case. Yes, celebrities are the people we see in the media, but is that all they are? They have private lives that we will never know anything about.
I am not denying that some odd things happened in Michael Jackson's life. In the last decade or so, he was in the media for a number of strange things, but no one knows what actually happened. None of us knows what he did or didn't do. It bothers me that people feel like it's okay to pass judgment on this man. He did more with his life than most people will ever do.
I was watching his public memorial today, and there were moments when I was moved by the words of his loved ones. These are famous people, who I am sure many people feel like they know. Many of them we love and celebrate, but for some reason we don't take that into consideration? Notice how many people showed up to pay the respects to this man. Notice how large his family is. Notice how devoted his friends are. Say what you want about what you think his personal life may have been like, but you have to admit there's a possibility you're wrong. If this man was as deeply disturbed and perverse as you assume he was, how could he have amassed such a support system. Why would celebrities who make a living off of their reputations stand up to support him?
Most importantly: How would you feel if it was your life people had misunderstood? How would you feel if people passed judgment on your personality because of some quirky traits? How would you if a beloved member of your family passed away, and then random people began to joke about it?
Respect.
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